


Closer

by AuroraNova



Series: The Vadari Chronicles [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 19:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19091824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: "He let you in."Julian's new friend doesn't think Garak's defenses are entirely impenetrable. Garak, meanwhile, finally sees fit to clue Julian in regarding a matter of Cardassian etiquette.





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who's encouraged me to write more in this series. I still don't have a plan, but I'm having fun with the possibilities.

“If you’re going to suggest handicapping your game, don’t bother,” says Kara.

She lives in his building, and the day he spotted her leaving with her gear was the day Julian learned there is a racquetball court which survived the Breen attack. They’ve since been bonding over their shared enthusiasm for the game.

Last month, she learned about his genetic resequencing when that information hit the gossip mill, which took longer than he’d anticipated. She sternly told Julian he wasn’t to hold himself back on the court and hasn’t won against him since.

“I don’t want your pity,” she adds as they pack up.

“It’s not pity. I have an unfair advantage.”

“So? It makes me improve my game. One of these days I’ll beat you, and it will be great because I’ll know I won honestly. Do people really want you to hold back to make them feel better?”

“I always thought of it in terms of levelling the playing field.”

“Call it what you like, as long as you don’t do it with me,” she says.

“If you change your mind, let me know.” He’d rather play at a lower level than he’s capable of than not play at all.

“I won’t,” Kara replies, and Julian believes her.

Vadari VII has enough problems, and not enough doctors, that there’s been relatively little concern over his enhancements. All the same, he knows people have been talking about him. It’s unavoidable. Julian tries his best to ignore the chatter, about which he can do absolutely nothing, and valiantly pretends he doesn’t hear whispers. In time it will be replaced by fresher gossip, if what happened on DS9 is any indication.

Of course, he’d prefer the new wave of gossip not center around him. So far, not much luck there. The other residents of his building are, in Julian’s opinion, overly interested in him. According to Kara, it’s because he’s a war hero with an enigmatic Cardassian friend. (The community is also very curious exactly what Garak did during the war to earn himself a Federation residence permit.) Julian just wishes they’d stop.

It occurs to him that Kara is the best person he can ask what’s on his mind. “If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?”

“Of course,” she replies.

“Do you blame us for the war?”

“And by ‘us’ you mean…”

“The crew of DS9, or Starfleet in general.”

“No.”

Because he’s never seen Kara flinch from full honesty, Julian feels better. “Mirashnel does,” he says. He’s fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to hear her say so. Enhanced hearing is more often a curse than a blessing, and while Julian has made a certain amount of peace with his genetic resequencing, he still wishes his auditory abilities had been left alone.

Kara says, “Mirashnel lost both of her children and her husband in the Breen attack.”

He hadn’t known she had children. Mirashnel, like Kara, is likely a year or two younger than Julian, and he can’t imagine having one child, let alone multiple. Which is probably because he’s never really allowed himself to consider the possibility of fatherhood in the first place, but in any event, he now understands there’s far more to the neighbor’s pain than he can fathom.

“I wasn’t aware,” he says.

“Do you blame yourself?”

“No.” Julian has never felt the war was avoidable, unless you counted Garak’s attempted genocide, and in his darkest moments he used to wish Garak had actually succeeded. Those days are past.

“Good. Personally, I blame the Breen most, because they did this.” As she steps outside, Kara gestures to the carved-up remains of what used to be a park and swimming pool. “Then the Dominion and the Cardassians. Except your friend Garak. Anyone who worked with the Federation during the war is alright in my book.”

“I always fault the Dominion first. Then Dukat for allying with them.”

“You know, this is the first time you’ve mentioned Starfleet or Deep Space Nine,” says Kara, carefully as though she’s entering unstable conversational territory.

“Is it?” He thinks for a moment and realizes she’s right. Ever since he arrived on Vadari VII, he’s been focusing on the present, helping people heal from the Breen attack first and foremost. If he talks about the past, it’s only with Garak, or occasionally Miles over the comm.

“Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s your business,” Kara clarifies.

“I didn’t expect to be forced out,” he says. “Not after they told me I could stay in Starfleet.”

“Ah. Painful subject.”

“Yes.” More than she could ever know. The official story is that Starfleet reconsidered the precedent they were setting in allowing him to stay. The truth is far more sinister, and Julian still has to remind himself that it was worth it. He saved a species and helped end the war, so Section 31’s punishment is bearable because he knows he did the right thing, the only thing he could’ve done and what he would do again.

“Then tell me something else. How old is Garak?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Really?”

“I have a high-confidence guess, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me sharing it. Why do you ask?”

“Larela likes him,” says Kara. “She’s wondering if he’d be agreeable to a date.”

“That will never happen,” promises Julian, “and age has nothing to do with it.”

Kara’s sister-in-law is approximately fifty, which puts her close to Garak’s age, if Julian hasn’t missed his guess. She’s a pleasant woman, from what little Julian knows of her, and it’s all completely irrelevant in terms of romancing Garak.

“Does he not date women?” asks Kara.

“I’ve never seen him date anyone.” Whether that’s because Garak is too paranoid for it, or simply lacks the desire, Julian doesn’t know. He’d rather it be the latter, as the former is depressing.

“Does he not date at all? Or is there a problem with Larela?”

“Nothing personal. She’s a Betazoid, and telepathy runs up against the impenetrable wall of Garak’s desire for privacy.”

Kara is married to a Betazoid. It no doubt encourages her tendency to bluntness, which is one of the traits Julian likes about her in the first place. It does, however, mean Garak will try to minimize the amount of time he spends around her husband and in-laws, along with any other Betazoids.

“I though he was friends with Sorvek.”

Neither Garak nor the Vulcan in question are likely to use the term. Friendly acquaintances, perhaps. Garak took up a plot in the community garden, where he’s attempting to grow, among other things, some Cardassian herbs, the seeds of which he brought with him. The neighboring plot belongs to Sorvek, which is how they’ve come to know each other.

“Touch telepaths are different,” Julian explains.

“Even though it’s considered incredibly rude to read a non-telepath without express permission?”

“Yes.”

“His loss,” Kara says. “But I don’t know about impenetrability, Julian. He let you in.”

By Garak’s standards, that’s true. Julian still doesn’t know why Garak let him hear that deathbed conversation with Tain, and probably never will. “It was two years before I learned his first name. From someone else, I might add.”

“He has a first name?”

“That’s what I thought, at the time.”

“Still,” says Kara, refusing to be distracted. “He always has this mask on, like nothing can affect him. Water off a duck’s back, you know? Except you. He seems real around you.”

It’s an interesting perspective, and Julian flatters himself to think she might be close to the truth. “Is that how it looks?”

“It sure is. I’ve got to pick up some vegetables for dinner, so I’m not walking back with you. Any interest in coming over to watch the sector racquetball championships this weekend? I’m having a small party.”

Julian has never found watching nearly as much fun as playing, but he is trying to develop friendships here, so he says, “Sounds good, thank you. Should I bring anything?”

“I wouldn’t turn down a snack contribution.”

“I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“Saturday at nine,” Kara says, and turns down the road toward the stores.

A few minutes later, Julian arrives home. Garak is already there, reading on the couch.

“Doctor, would you mind if I invite Sorvek in tomorrow? I’d like to show him my tea tree.”

The red leaf tea sapling, lovingly brought from Cardassia, is Garak’s prized possession. Julian honestly can’t say which Garak treasures more, the tree or his replica first edition paper copy of _The Never Ending Sacrifice_. Since it matters so much to Garak, Julian let him build the perfect environment for the tree in front of their living room window. It seems to be doing well there, to Julian’s inexpert eye. Blocking part of the window is a small price to pay.

“Of course not,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Julian is about to head for the shower when he makes a connection. “Wait a minute. You thought you had to ask. Is that what bothered you the night before last?”

Garak had been huffy all evening, which Julian attributed to the demands of opening his new business, but in retrospect, it started after Julian brought Kara up to show him how she pitted neka fruit without splattering it all over the kitchen.

He couldn’t wait until they had enough energy to replicate ready-to-eat food.  

“Is it not customary among humans to request permission before inviting others into a shared living space?”

“No.”

Garak raises an eyeridge. “I see.”

“It’s your home. You can invite whoever you want over.”

“Without your knowledge or consent?”

“It’s more or less implied. Though, if either of us wanted to bring anyone home for sex, we’d have to work out a system to communicate that.” Particularly with one bedroom, which could get awkward. Somehow, Julian didn’t think artwork on the door would work with Garak the way it had with his roommates at the Academy.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly. I am free to invite whoever I please into our apartment at any time and without warning you, so long as it’s not for sexual purposes.” Garak says this with skepticism, as though Julian has suggested he lace his tea with poison to add flavor.

“Yes.”

“What a chaotic approach.”

“In my defense, you’d been complaining about the neka mess, and Kara did help.”

“Yes. You haven’t gotten any in my hair since her lesson.”

“That only happened once!”

“It was memorable,” says Garak.

Julian has a feeling it’s going to be a while before Garak lets him live the incident down. He thinks for a minute. “I suggest a compromise. We don’t need to ask before having a guest, but we will give each other advance warning.”

“How much warning?”

“Do you have a number in mind?”

“Six hours at minimum,” says Garak.

“Why six?”

“It allows ample time to present the appearance I wish visitors to see.”

Julian’s never been one to worry about such things, but it shouldn’t surprise him to learn Garak is. “Six hours, then. Is that an acceptable arrangement?”

“It is,” says Garak.

Kara’s words come to mind. _He seems real around you_. It occurs to Julian that when they first met, Garak would never have let on that he was upset like this. Not over something that actually mattered to him.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, however unintentionally,” Julian says.

“It’s quite alright, Doctor. Simply another cultural difference, and I do appreciate your effort to master pitting neka fruit without turning it into an accessory.”

Encouraged by evidence of what Kara sees, and feeling bold, Julian asks, “Are you going to call me by my title forever?” He’s well aware Cardassians are not wont to use first names casually, but also fairly certain his friendship with Garak qualifies as close enough.

“Until I am invited to do otherwise, yes.”

“I invited you multiple times.”

“When we first met, and it would have been inappropriate at that time.” Garak’s tone suggests Julian is being a bit dense, which is hardly fair considering he’s never seen fit to explain any of this.

“I always thought you’d let me know when it was appropriate.”

“It’s not my place.”

Julian is now thoroughly confused. “Place?”

“Throughout our association, your social status has remained higher than mine. It is therefore improper for me to make the suggestion.”

“You might have told me so.”

“I thought it was obvious,” says Garak, though Julian’s not at all sure he’s being honest. It’s equally possible – maybe even more likely - that Garak was content to leave formal terms of address as another layer of barrier, either as part of his carefully cultivated mystique or simply to protect himself from some perceived vulnerability.

“It wasn’t, and I suspect you had an inkling. Regardless, I hereby invite you to call me Julian. Will that suffice?”

Garak smiles. “Yes.”

“Good. Glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“You may call me Elim, if you’d like.”

“I would,” says Julian.

_He let you in._

Two days later, when Kara hears Garak use his first name, she gives Julian a knowing grin.


End file.
